


Regrets

by Steadfxst



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Angst, Churches & Cathedrals, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 10:59:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15169253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steadfxst/pseuds/Steadfxst
Summary: For once, Jim can't find the right words to say.





	Regrets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [navree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/navree/gifts).



> The universe desperately wanted me to write this for my friend

Jim pulls the kneeler down, gets onto his knees, props his elbows on the pew in front of him, and clasps his hands together. He bows his head, swallows hard. There is a quiet peace that falls over him as he tries to even out his breathing. 

He wants to pray—it’s why he came here, after all—but his mind is blank. 

_Well, that’s not entirely true_ , he thinks with a wince.

_I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry._

It’s a litany that won’t stop, hasn’t stopped, in months.

_Almost two years now, actually._

Fuck.

He sighs in anguished frustration. The broken sound escapes his mouth against his wishes. It’s cracked and brittle, and the noise startles him enough that he remembers where he is. Jim attempts to collect himself. He looks around the church to see who might’ve borne witness to his outburst.

Jim is very glad he came early. The only other people here are the clergy members who tend the grounds and a few older folks who appear to be sleeping, their Bibles open and slowly slipping out of their slackened fingers.

Jim sighs, softer this time. He rubs his temple. No witnesses at least. 

He gets off his knees and sits in the pew. Carefully, he lifts the kneeler and gently sets it back into place. He is grateful that it does not betray him by making a blasphemous noise. What good was it to pray when you couldn’t even fully admit to yourself what you were praying about?

_I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry._

Even here the thoughts won’t leave.

Jim’s collar feels awfully tight. He loosens his tie and feels instantly guilty about it. Now he looked sloppy. It feels too improper for his comfort. He puts his tie back into place.

“I’m sorry,” he says out loud.

He feels that traitorous lump form in his throat.

“I’m.”

He swallows, and it hurts.

“I’m sorry.”

He blinks his eyes rapidly until the fist around his heart eases its grip.

Jim chews on his lip for a few seconds before he stands.

That was enough for one day.

Perhaps he would try again tomorrow.


End file.
